


Off the Record

by Husaria



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:08:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22063060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Husaria/pseuds/Husaria
Summary: Food critic Yuuri Katsuki goes into a local bakery to interview its star baker and comes out with more than he originally intended.
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Comments: 4
Kudos: 71
Collections: Yuri!!! on Ice Secret Skater 2019





	Off the Record

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alastairWright](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alastairWright/gifts).



Yuuri’s breaths came out in puffs as he approached the bakery. At 7am, the streets were deserted, a slight fog hanging over the city. The bakery was dark and deserted, the only light appearing from a doorway behind the counter. 

Yuuri checked his email on his phone, just in case. 

_“Please feel free to come an hour before opening on Saturday,”_ read the message. _“I will leave the front door unlocked for you ))”_

He pushed open the glass door, a small bell clinking as he stepped inside. It looked like a typical bakery-café combo that was common in the city. The walls were painted white and were dotted with photographs as well as small paintings of apricot poodles. There were only around four tables and chairs throughout the entire bakery. 

“Hey bakery’s closed,” said a short blond man from behind the counter, carrying what looked like a tray of rolls. 

“O-Oh, I’m sorry.” Yuuri pulled out his reporter’s badge from his pocket. “Yuuri Katsuki, from _The Post_. I was told by Victor Nikiforov that I can come an hour before opening for an interview.” 

The other man regarded him skeptically sliding the tray behind some glass. “Victor!” he barked. He turned and headed into the back, yelling quickly in Russian. 

Yuuri stood awkwardly behind a chair at one of the little tables, shifting his weight to one leg and picking up a menu from the table. He already knew most of it from the few other times he had visited the bakery. Incognito as a food critic, of course. He had never seen Victor Nikiforov up close in person, assuming that the man behind the bakery was too busy at the time. 

“Ah! My apologies.” The photos that Yuuri had seen of Victor on other websites did not do him justice. Silver hair fell into his face, and his eyes had the same color as the winter sky outside. 

Light flooded when Victor flipped a switch next to the doorway. He had untied an apron—which fit his body quite snugly from what Yuuri could tell—from his waist and hung it off a hook behind the counter. 

“I am Victor Nikiforov.” He shook Yuuri’s hand. His voice had the slightest hint of a Russian accent. “Would you like anything? Some tea, coffee? I was just taking some croissants out from the oven.” 

Yuuri’s mouth began to water. “I’d like one.” _Very much_. He wanted other things too but decided to keep them to himself. 

“I’ll get two,” said Victor. “One for you and one for myself.” 

Yuuri sat back in his chair, taking out his notepad and briefly checking the messages on his phone. Nothing new except a photo of Vicchan that his roommate Phichit had taken of the poodle asleep on the couch after Yuuri left. 

“I brought some coffee for the both of us,” said Victor, setting down a platter of croissants with a pot of coffee. “I’m sure it must be cold out there.” 

“It’s _freezing_.” Yuuri grateful poured a mug of coffee. “It shouldn’t be this cold without snow.” 

Victor tilted his head to the side. “I’m sorry but is that a poodle on your phone?” 

“Oh yes!” said Yuuri, sliding his phone in Victor’s direction. “His name is Vicchan.” 

“I thought that was him. You mention him in quite a few of your columns.” 

“O-Oh.” Yuuri felt heat rush to his cheeks, and he had no idea if it was from the warmth of the coffee or knowing that Victor read his columns. “Y-Yes, you’re right.” 

“Vicchan looks very similar to Makkachin, only he’s smaller. Of course, he’s not allowed in the bakery,” Victor said quickly. Was he nervous? Yuuri was a food critic, not a health inspector. “Feel free to eat a croissant.” 

They were warm, buttery, flaky, and delicious. Yuuri had to tell himself not to eat all of it in one bite. 

“How are they?” 

“Goof.” Yuuri swallowed. “Good, very good. Oh, before we start!” He held up his phone. “May I?” 

“Of course.” 

Yuuri turned on the microphone to record the interview. 

“This bakery has been open for little under two years, correct?” he asked. 

“Yes,” said Victor. “The bakery is not quite two years old.” 

“Have you considered opening another location?” 

“Not really, at least, not soon. This location is already quite a busy one.” 

“You, err,” Yuuri glanced at his notes again, “I recall reading that you lived in France for some time.” 

“Two years,” said Victor. “I lived in Paris working at a patisserie.” He gave a nervous chuckle. “Explains why I have so many French pastries.” 

“I’ve also noticed on your menu that you sell Russian baked goods?” 

“Funny you mention those,” said Victor. “Those are very popular around lunchtime.” 

“Are those from a family recipe?” 

“Not from mine, no. They’re mostly from Yuri’s family, his grandfather specifically. He’s quite excellent at baking pirozhki. I’d offer you some, but they typically go in the oven at around ten.” 

“Who’s Yuri?” 

“You probably saw him behind the counter before you walked in. A bit shorter than you, blond, angry.” 

“Ah!” Yuuri made a mental note to try a pirozhki the next time he was in the neighborhood. 

“Are they popular sellers?” Yuuri continued. 

“They’re not as popular as the sweeter items,” said Victor. “But they sell quite well during lunch time.” 

“That’s alright.” Yuuri wrote a few more lines for his notes and looked at them. He had a few more questions to ask, but his mouth dried. He had done countless interviews with other restauranteurs around the city, but why did this one seem harder to do. 

“I’ve read quite a few of your reviews too,” said Victor. 

“You…” Yuuri gulped. “You have?” 

“Of course,” said Victor. “I’ve done research on _you_ , you know. Your various other reviews.” He took a sip of coffee, regarding Yuuri carefully. “The way you rip apart other restaurants is so interesting to read.” 

“I don’t rip apart any restaurant—” 

“No, you don’t. At least, not explicitly. You sugarcoat your reviews in the funniest ways and then end up giving the restaurant only one star. It’s fascinating.” 

“I recall you saying that the katsudon at the Japanese restaurant a few towns away would disappoint your mother.” 

“Of course it would!” Yuuri shook his head, cringing internally at the memory of the meal. 

“That’s the most brutal review I’ve read from you. You gave the place half a star.” 

Yuuri had no idea how to respond to a round of questions like that, so he ripped apart another croissant and shoved it in his mouth. 

“Well, I—I still have a few more questions I’d like to ask you.” Yuuri concentrated on his notes, finding himself unable to look in Victor’s eyes. 

“Of course.” 

“S-So.” Yuuri cleared his throat. “So,” he said steadily, “with the economy the way it is, how do you continue to draw in customers.” 

“We have 

“And finally, what do you do in your free time?” 

“Ice skating.” 

“ _You_ ice skate?” said Yuuri incredulously. “It’s a completely different…well, _temperature_ than a bakery.” 

“I hardly have the time to skate nowadays,” said Victor with some bitterness in his voice. “But when I _do_ skate…it’s so easy to forget about problems such as money or ingredients or mundane things like getting to the bakery on time. Did you know I’ve been here since four this morning and it’s not even nine? I’ve been here for nearly five hours already.” 

“So…so you don’t get much time outside of work then?” asked Yuuri. 

“Not anymore,” said Victor. “The bakery is always quite busy and depending on the schedule, I even work some holiday. Ah, I apologize. This might be too much for an answer to the question.” 

“No, no, that’s alright.” 

“I…ah…I think that’s it from my end,” said Yuuri, looking over at his notes. Victor had a way of making him speechless. “Would you like to say anything else?” 

“Are you asking if _I_ can ask _you_ a question?” 

“Yes,” Yuuri said breathlessly. 

“Hmm.” Victor thought for a few moments, and then Yuuri saw a hint of mischief in his eyes. “Maybe turn off your phone’s microphone for this?” 

“You’re asking this off the record?” Yuuri said, stopping the recording. 

“This is off the record,” said Victor. “But after closing time, would you like to go to a café not too far from here.” 

“If you’re talking about District Coffee,” asked Yuuri. “Then, sure.” 

“I am,” said Victor. “Then that’s 

“You gave it four stars,” said Victor. 

Yuuri blinked a few times before it finally hit him. “Are you asking me out on a date, during _my_ interview with _you_?” 

“It can or cannot be a date, depending on what you want.” 

“Yes to the coffee,” said Yuuri. “I’m not too sure on the dating part.” 

“That’s alright,” said Victor. “Let’s see, I close at around four, and I’ll have to do inventory for while…Say, five-thirty?” 

“That sounds alright.” Maybe an oven opened in the back somewhere because Yuuri felt inexplicably hot. 

He briefly looked over his shoulder and saw about ten people already lined up in front of the door even as it began to snow. He checked his phone. “It’s getting close to your opening time. I should probably go.” 

“Yes!” exclaimed Victor. “Yes, yes you should go.” 

“Thank you for taking the time to speak with me today.” Yuuri shook his hand. 

“It’s been my pleasure,” said Victor. 

“I’ll make a decision later today!” said Yuuri. “Okay?” 

“Sounds fine to me,” said Victor. 

It had begun to snow, as Yuuri exited the bakery. Now the rest of Yuuri’s day would be spent going over his notes and listening to the sound of Victor’s voice over and over again as he thought about what to write for his profile. He headed down the escalator to the metro, already knowing the answer to Victor’s proposition in his mind. 


End file.
